


Herzschmerz

by silveriris



Series: modern magic [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Death, F/F, Gen, M/M, Modern magic AU, established Merribela, not really Fenders but they're getting there slowly, sometimes swearing, suicide mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-18 23:26:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3587874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveriris/pseuds/silveriris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anders' big secret is out, Fenris doesn't know what to do with this knowledge, and everyone is confused and/or angry after Anders tells them about his plan that involves kidnapping a certain someone right from the Gallows. / modern magic AU; full summary and warnings inside</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Dragon Age is not mine, although the writing certainly is.  
> A/N: Anders/Karl is nothing but PAIN. Let's make it even more painful, then! /kicks self  
> It was supposed to be a oneshot but I decided to divide it into chapters so it wouldn't look like a wall of text.  
> It's a continuation of my previous fic, Ser Pounce, though you don't have to read it to get what's going on in this one. The basic idea is that it's a modern AU but with magic, elves etc... All Hawke siblings are alive. Carver is a templar. Bethany is a Circle mage. Marian is a mage as well, while Garrett is a rogue.  
> May seem OOC at times, but this is AU, some OOC is to be expected, I think.  
> Fenris’ POV. I found myself enjoying writing his perspective, even though I like Anders as a character more (I’m afraid I wouldn’t do him justice, no pun intended).  
> I'm my own beta, so I apologize in advance for all mistakes :|

_herzschmerz_ (n.) heartache; an emotional pain in the heart

 

* * *

For the third time today, Fenris cursed humanity as a whole. He barely avoided stepping on a broken bottle which was like a spikey trap right in the middle of the pavement. People ignored it even if they did step on it; shoes protected their feet so why bother cleaning up something that could cause problems to others. Fenris was still reluctant to the very idea of wearing shoes, although at times like this he could certainly see the disadvantage of walking barefoot in the dumpster that was Kirkwall.

_City of Chains should be renamed City of Filth_ , Fenris mused.

His mind returned to an overused thought of blaming mages for everything; this time, however, Fenris was right, at least partially. The elf assisted Marian and Garrett on a job that was supposed to be easy. Of course it was not.

Smugglers? No problem. Smugglers that were also mages? Way too many problems.

Garrett asked Fenris to report what they had discovered to Cullen, and Fenris, as tired as he was, couldn’t say no. He had some serious dependency issues when it came to the older Hawke siblings, the elf was sure, but it didn’t bother him as much as it should. At least he had a sense of belonging.

They should have taken Anders with them, Fenris reluctantly agreed after Garrett got hit; the man was annoying but surprisingly effective in combat. Not to mention he was a gifted healer who would deal with Hawke’s injury in seconds. So while Marian took her brother to the emergency (she was a mage specialising in setting people on fire, not healing them, sadly), they sent Fenris to Cullen. The elf cursed not only the mages who attacked them, but one mage in particular for not being available when he was needed.

There were days when they wouldn't hear from Anders as if the man got lost in the Fade. Sometimes they worried he was captured by templars and locked up once and for good after yet another anti–Circle demonstration, but Anders seemed to be lucky enough to stay away from his captors and enjoy freedom (at least for now). He claimed he's busy with the clinic, and others believed him; at times Isabela tried to satisfy her curiosity and question him after getting massively drunk, though Anders never said more than vaguely declaring he had some 'personal matters' to deal with. 

Fenris didn't care to listen to the mage anyway, although there were times when Anders appeared... intriguing (for the lack of a better word; not that Fenris was intrigued, because he _obviously wasn't_ ). One could consider the man's devotion a lost cause (Varric) or madness (Fenris), it did not stop Anders from trying. While the rest of them finished their education, Anders was expelled – it never stopped him for a second, on the contrary, he found more time and energy to, firstly, help the poor in a hole he called his clinic in Darktown, and secondly, for a crazy idea called Mage Underground, as if Anders wasn't already Knight–Commander Meredith's first target on her _Red List Of Death_ (she looked like the kind of person who _could_ have such list, possibly written in blood of an unfortunate mage who dared to offend her).

Whether templars were so stupid or Anders so lucky Fenris didn't know, however, the mage was living as an apostate in charge of an unregistered clinic for quite some time now. Perhaps Aveline had something to do with it, after all she worked as the guard captain; or maybe Carver listened to his older siblings for once, and was helping to draw templars' attention as far from Anders as possible.

Their group still met from time to time, usually for the Wicked Grace night in the Hanged Man (that had become significantly better once Varric bought the place). Fenris frequently worked with Marian and Garrett for their freelance business.

Fenris walked forward, ignoring crowds of people around him. They didn't matter, nothing more than mindless masses causing more problems every day. He stopped, waiting for the light to change. All that noise around him was slowly giving him a headache. The light changed, he quickly crossed the street, going in the direction of the most dreadful of all Kirkwall districts, the Gallows. The fact that it was separated from the rest of the city, and that there was only one way to get there – by ferry, during specific hours, made it appear more ominous. One could only wonder what was going on behind the high walls.

Fenris preferred to leave alone not only this district, but Kirkwall as a whole, separating himself from whatever problems this blighted city had. He was only doing his job, working for Hawkes, and occasionally helping Aveline as well. At least he wasn't locked up in the alienage with the rest of elves, like Merrill (though it seemed the Dalish girl liked living there for some unknown reason, but then again she was enthusiastic about getting mugged the other day).

The Gallows always looked gloomy. Fenris focused on his current task instead of analysing the solemn atmosphere. Being so close to the Circle of Magi made his markings itch; he could barely tolerate two mages on their team, there was no need for him to tolerate others. Marian was a mage herself, but she was _Marian Hawke_ who was on the entirely different level, and Fenris would never see her as one of the power–hungry, demon–loving abominations.

He scanned the main square locating the nearest templar who looked bored enough to help him with his task.

“I wish to speak to Knight–Captain Cullen,” Fenris announced. No use playing nice or greeting the man, he wasn’t here to make friends.

The young templar glowered at him, clearly offended by his demanding tone of voice. “I'm afraid he's not available at the moment.”

_So you better turn around and leave, knife ear_ , his eyes said the rest.

Fenris gritted his teeth. “I'm here on the behalf of the Champions of Kirkwall, Marian and Garrett Hawke. They wish to deliver a message to Cullen, that's why I need to speak with him in person.”

Humans always looked down on elves, on _him_ especially, oozing this false sense of superiority, claiming to be better because of their race. Men like this were nothing but vermin, Fenris was sure, though he was in no position to question their status, being an outcast with no real power.

Having the Champions behind his back could get Fenris, an elf!, everywhere. Mentioning their names was enough, he learned, and proved exceptionally helpful in all kind of situations. Being known as their friend was surely beneficial, although Fenris never saw their relationship as only business; it was more complicated than that. He was proud to call them his friends.

Hearing about Marian and Garrett, the man's expression changed. Fenris could nearly see the templar's brain working hard to connect the dots and produce a big red sign HAWKE = MUST RESPECT.

“I'll inform Knight–Captain immediately,” the man nodded and walked away.

Humans were annoying, but thankfully fairly easy to manipulate. Only mages proved to be difficult, always getting on the elf's nerves. And speaking of mages...

The Gallows were infamous not only because the place used to be a prison, long time ago when these lands belonged to the Tevinter Imperium. The main reason was that Tranquil mages lived here, gullible sheep guided by their watchful wolves from the templar order. Some of them could be seen around the main square selling various goods (never complaining about the scorching sun; Tranquil never complained), while the rest was hidden inside the fortress, busy with countless chores. There were rumours circulating around Kirkwall, about Meredith's reign of terror and the so–called _Tranquil Solution_. Fenris wrinkled his nose; Anders always complained loudly about it. When Fenris was in the right mood, he teased the mage hoping to make the man mad (which was very easy). When he wasn't, he found the mage's plight for freedom and such irritating.

Fenris glanced around, feeling uneasiness creeping up to him. He wouldn't admit it, but the blank stares of Tranquil, always so peaceful and emotionless, made him anxious. They were... unnatural. No creature should have such empty eyes. Fenris scanned his surroundings again, Cullen was nowhere to be seen. He hated this place.

Then Fenris noticed a familiar figure by the other door leading inside, his mind stopped working for a second because the situation seemed so surreal it was hardly believable to be happening.

It was Anders. The apostate came to the Gallows. Willingly? It seemed so, as he wasn't in shackles, and more importantly...

The mage looked different. 

Not that Fenris generally cared about Anders, usually he tried to avoid looking at the man (unfortunately not hearing whatever Anders had to say wasn't an option, unless Fenris considered silencing him for good). This time, however, Anders was far from his usual dishevelled self. Instead of an old t–shirt or his ridiculous coat with feathers, he wore clothes that could be considered _normal_ : a shirt and dark jeans, both probably from a second–hand shop but good enough, not too shabby. He seemed like a guy who did get a good night sleep, for once, bags under his eyes almost not visible. And he shaved, so that his face was unnaturally smooth, giving him a much younger look of a man who didn't spend sleepless nights working overtime in a piss–poor clinic in the filth of Darktown. 

Anders looked not only different, he looked so odd Fenris instantly knew that there was something going on. The mage didn't see him, the elf hoped, his attention focused entirely on his current task – which appeared to be all about glancing nervously at the small door that seemed to be something like an entry for servants. Anders was waiting for someone, Fenris realised, curious. Despite all that angry yelling about Tranquility, the man never mentioned knowing someone from this place (or Fenris wasn't paying attention, which was highly possible). Then the door opened, a templar walked out followed by a man with grey beard, wearing robes indicating he was a mage. They all exchanged few words before the templar disappeared back inside. Even from a distance, the elf could see the excitement on Anders' face.

What followed left Fenris only more confused.

Fenris observed as Anders walked hand in hand with the man. He saw Anders talking about something, gesturing wildly, smiling; the other man seemed unamused, staring blankly at some unspecified point in space.

Then he noticed it. A sunburst symbol on the man's forehead, a stigma of Tranquility. Of course, the man was one for the Tranquil mages. They walked away to a different part of the place, disappearing from the elf's view.

“You wish to speak with me?”

Fenris shook his head, scattering unwanted thoughts, and tuned his attention to Knight–Captain Cullen. The man usually looked like he hasn't slept for at least three nights, but his voice was as politely interested in whatever you had to say as always.

“You asked the Champions for help, and they managed to locate another shipment of illegal lyrium,” the elf replied, going straight to the topic.

“I'm sorry you had to wait here. Let's talk in my office.” Cullen gestured at the door, and Fenris followed him inside. Other templars glared openly at the tattooed knife ear, eyeing the sword on his back with a certain dose of hostility. He learned to ignore them long time ago; after all ignorance was a bliss, especially in Kirkwall.

 

*

 

Talking to Cullen took him longer than he expected, and by the end of their conversation Fenris wanted nothing else but to go back to his place, drink a bit to soothe his nerves, and hide from the whole world. Interacting with others was exhausting.

“Tell the Champions how grateful I am for their help,” said Cullen walking Fenris to the main gate. “I’ll inform Knight–Commander Meredith, she will be most pleased.”

“Sure,” the elf grumbled. He just wanted to get out but the man wouldn’t stop talking.

“And please tell them they are most welcome to visit me any time to discuss the matters further. I’m sure Meredith would like to speak to them as well.”

_She would like to impale them on her sword, especially Marian for being an apostate_ , Fenris thought.

“Of course,” he said instead, forcing himself to sound respectful. “Thank you for your time.”

“Have a good day, Messere,” Cullen nodded, finally ready to leave.

Suddenly, the templar’s expression changed as he stared in confusion at someone, then shook his head and quickly walked away. Without thinking, Fenris followed his gaze. It was, as he soon realised, a grave mistake. Now the elf wished Cullen wouldn’t have left and continued his blabbing.

It was Anders, this time alone, apparently done with whatever he had to do in this place. And he was going to the gate, where Fenris was standing. The worst thing was, Anders was glaring right at him, eyes narrowed, lips curled indicating his annoyance and anger he displayed almost every time he and Fenris got into an argument. That happy and carefree person Fenris saw earlier was gone, replaced by the angry mage he knew so well.

The elf's strategy was to avoid the mage; however, Anders walked right to him, giving Fenris no possible way of escaping this situation.

“Visiting your best buddy Cullen? It's nice to personally know certain templars. You can form a mage hating club together!”

And just like that, their usual bickering was back.

Fenris took a deep breath. “Mage. I'm surprised to see you here.”

“Why, you don't look surprised. Not anymore. I guess you're done staring at me thinking I wouldn't notice?”

He felt his ears burning red. “I wasn't staring.”

Anders snorted. “I should have taken a picture, you've never looked more shocked. You thought I was a ghost or something?”

“Well, you look different.”

“Different? You mean that I'm currently wearing clothes that don't scream, _I'm an apostate, templars die_? I do have a _fuck templars_ t–shirt,” he mused.

“I meant, you're wearing clothes that make you look normal, so one could think you really are just an ordinary citizen of Kirkwall,” he replied and began walking towards the exit. To his horror, Anders followed.

“You think our conversation is over?” the mage barked, catching up to him. “Just when I heard you make an attempt of a _joke_? I must inform Varric, he’ll mark it in his calendar, _Broody elf jokes_.”

“Ferry leaves in ten minutes,” Fenris said hoping the man would magically disappear or at least leave him alone.

“Let's hurry up, then!”

Of course Anders didn't get the suggestion, or he purposely ignored the elf's hostile glare, determined to annoy him even further. Fenris cursed his life, mages, and humanity as a whole again. It certainly wasn’t his best day.

Once they were on the ferry, Fenris reminded himself it only takes ten minutes to get to Kirkwall. He could survive ten minutes with a mage. He _hoped_. Or else Marian and Garrett would kill him for injuring their favourite, albeit often useless, healer.

“So what do you want to know, Fenris?”

Anders spoke in a seemingly casual tone, but the elf could sense his wrath. And it was obviously directed at him.

“Why do you think I want to ask you anything?”

“Because last time I saw you, you looked like you were having a heart attack.”

“I was _slightly_ surprised, as I didn’t know why you were in that place,” he shrugged. “Perhaps you were visiting someone? But that’s not my business.”

“Of course it’s not your business,” Anders spat, his eyes glowing with anger. “You don't care about anyone, why would you? You're a heartless bastard.”

“Think whatever you want,” Fenris replied, getting tired of this conversation, constant arguing every time they met, disagreeing on everything, unable to form any sort of consensus. It felt like the longest ten minutes in his life. “I do not wish to invade anyone's privacy. I shouldn't have asked.”

“But you did, so what do you want to know, huh?”

Fenris took a breath and exhaled slowly; why was Anders so agitated? Well, more than usually. It was like the mage could always find a reason to be angry at something, especially when Fenris was around.

“I admit, seeing you in that place took me by surprise.”

Anders snorted. “Because I can't go wherever I want?”

“Because,” Fenris growled. “I'd rather expect to see you getting dragged to the Gallows in shackles, considering the place is full of Tranquil mages, and your tirades about Meredith's cruelty are endless.”

If he thought this would stop the mage, Fenris was gravely mistaken.

“Funny you mentioned Tranquil mages,” Anders said in a seemingly casual voice, his honey eyes dark. “You must have seen me with one of them, right?”

“I don’t need to know who that man was.”

“Oh, so you _did_ see me with a Tranquil, yes?”

Fenris took a deep breath. He was desperately clutching to the calmer part of his personality, which wasn't easy without Marian or Garrett around.

“Yes, I did see you walking with a Tranquil.”

“That was Karl,” the mage said with a hint of blush on his face.

“All right, that's enough information. No need to tell me your whole damn life story.”

“You don't want to hear more, then?” Anders pressed. Fenris could feel the impending headache blooming in his head.

“I didn't and I do not want to.”

“Aren't you curious who is he?”

“Not re– “

“He's my husband.”

Anders managed, this one time, make Fenris completely silent. The elf opened his mouth, blinked, then frowned as his mind digested this information. He noticed the blush on Anders' face deepening, though there was no sign of embarrassment in his eyes, only cold determination mixed with anger.

From all questions he could have said, Fenris asked this one, “How old were you when..?”

“Young but old enough to know I wanted it.”

“You don't wear a ring,” the elf glanced at the mage's hands to check, although he was sure he would have noticed such detail. There never had been a ring on Anders' hand, he was certain.

“No, I don't. Our relationship is... complicated. Explaining it to others is rather difficult.”

“Yet you're talking about it to _me_ of all people,” said Fenris before he could think and stop himself. “I thought it was forbidden for Circle mages to marry.”

“It's not technically legal, but it is real for us. We did it before everything went to the void. Before he got transferred, and I was… Before all this mess.”

Fenris glanced away, his eyes fixed on the city ahead. He remembered the way Anders looked at that man; now everything made sense. Fenris was embarrassed he didn’t realise it himself, because it was painfully obvious the mage _loved_ that Tranquil.

Thoughts in his mind clicked. The reason they couldn’t reach Anders was that he was visiting the Gallows. That was his ‘private matter’. Fenris wondered if Anders told anyone else; probably not. And he wouldn’t if they didn’t meet by accident.

“I can’t spend all my time there, obviously,” Anders continued. He talked more to himself, and Fenris was grateful for that. “Tranquil mages can receive visitors but they can meet with one particular person only once a month. Supposedly it’s to prevent creating confusion and putting _ideas_ in their minds,” he shook his head.

“You visit him every month?” asked Fenris. Despite his usual views on mages, he found himself interested in this story. It was cruel and unfair, but what wasn’t in this damned city.

“Yes, every month. Tranquil mages are allowed outside the Gallows only if they have Meredith’s written permission, so we can only walk around that place while templars watch us like wolves.”

Fenris hesitated before his next question. He was aware he should stop asking, but one part of him wanted to know. “Aren’t you… afraid they’ll catch you? You’re an apostate…”

“I can’t leave Karl there. Especially not now,” Anders said. Something changed in his voice, turning anger into deep melancholy, the kind that poisoned one’s heart from the inside.

Fenris felt he was not entitled to ask about the explanation.

Anders didn’t tell him more, and when they arrived, the mage left without a word, a shadow of the man Fenris saw smiling at the Tranquil named Karl.

 

* * *

A/N2: Thank you for reading! Please review, comments are always appreciated :)

 


	2. Chapter 2

His sword got significantly heavier. _Good_ , Fenris thought, wiping sweat from his brow. _It means I'm getting tired._

And tired meant focused only on his body, not overthinking certain issues, like the mage and his 'secret'. All this information, and what Fenris was supposed to do with it exactly? Since yesterday, his thoughts kept coming back to the mage, the way he changed when he spoke of that man. Fenris didn't want to know in the first place, yet Anders told him everything.

_Blighted mage._

Exercising was good. Fenris grabbed his sword and practiced in the main hallway of his borrowed mansion, not caring about the possible damage he could cause. It was spacious enough, though breaking things was unavoidable. The place was close to a ruin anyway, and it never truly belonged to him, even after dealing with Danarius and then forging papers so the elf could stay here. Officially it was his property, but it obviously never felt like his home. Tip of his sword poked a vase that fell and shattered on the floor into pieces. It was highly expensive, quite possibly. _Oh well_. A lot of people, mostly Marian or Varric, suggested he should start taking care of the mansion. Truth to be told, Fenris would rather prefer to see it rot and crumble down, much like his former master.

Half an hour later, ha had to take a break, his muscles aching. He grabbed a bottle and drank until he heard his phone buzzing.

As soon as Fenris saw it was a text from Marian Hawke, he knew his plans would change. He wished for a calm evening; obviously fate had something else prepared for him. 

_meet u @Avelines in 1h pls come! important!!!_

You never knew with these two. It could be something about their Mabari; last time Fenris got a message saying " _pls come important_ ", he was in the middle of his usual training session, but rushed to their estate immediately – only to find Marian and Garrett arguing what _collar_ their dog should wear. Ever since they finally got their dream pet, they gradually became obsessed with it more than Anders with cats. On the other hand, they got involved in all kind of problematic stuff, especially Garrett, but it was like they didn't know the difference between the 'fake' emergency (such as 'help! my monstrous dog ate my sock what do') and a real one ('I might have accidentally angered a cult of crazy blood mages and now they want to kill me oops').

Yet Fenris couldn’t ignore it, no matter what was the problem. Few minutes later, he was on his way to a small house on the outskirts of Kirkwall, where Aveline and Donnic lived.

 

*

 

Aveline was, arguably, most successful of them all, becoming the captain of the guard despite not being anyone famous or wealthy. When Marian and Garrett were simply lucky (or not, depending on the view) to grab the title of the Champions, she was hardworking and devoted, never settling for anything else but the best option. Surely, soon enough, Aveline became one of the most respected guards in Kirkwall, earning trust and loyalty of all her subordinates. And interestingly enough, she managed to get married again, while the rest of them were still on the level of pulling pigtails of people they found worth their attention. Isabela used this technique to woo Merrill, but Maker knew what was happening between these two…

When Fenris arrived, the rest of their gang was present. Surprised as he was, Fenris didn’t say anything, though he didn’t expect to see all of them here. Certainly not Anders who was sitting in the chair looking more grumpy than usually. He had Ser Pounce–a–Lot on his lap; it seemed the cat calmed him. Fenris briefly remembered the day Anders got the cat, and all that unnecessary drama he created, until giving the pet to Aveline. Pounce was living with her ever since, as pets weren’t allowed in the clinic.

Merrill sat on the couch with Isabela who had her arm around the elf’s waist, and Varric, while Aveline was sitting on the other chair, her arms crossed, visibly upset by whatever was going on in her house right now. Both Hawkes sat on the carpet where they seemed most comfortable. As Fenris walked inside, they all looked at him.

“Anders is in trouble, we might need your help,” Marian rushed to explain.

_At least we’re going straight to the point_ , he thought.

Others held their breath, awaiting his response, as they knew the mage and the elf weren’t exactly friends. Pounce had his big eyes fixed on Fenris, perhaps recognising the person who once took care of him. While it was clear Anders called others, it was Marian who asked Fenris to come here because they all knew the elf wouldn’t do it for Anders.  Which also explained why Sebastain was absent.

“I didn’t want to interrupt,” he mentioned. “Continue whatever you were discussing.”

“We were… waiting for you, actually,” said Anders. When their eyes met, the mage didn’t look away. Fenris wasn’t sure if he liked what he saw in the man’s honey eyes.

“I’m here, so let’s begin,” he replied and sat down on the only available chair left.

“ _Anders is in trouble_ ” didn’t sound like the mage was about to reveal his secret to them all, which left Fenris wondering what was the purpose of this meeting.

Anders searched for the right words. “I need you to help me. I know I’ve asked you for help many times before, but this is probably the most important thing in my entire life.”

“Now, now, Blondie, no need to be so dramatic. Just tell us what’s the problem and we’ll help ya,” said Varric, expressing everyone’s worry. “Trouble with templars?”

Anders shook his head, stroking the cat on his lap. Pounce was the only creature in the room not concerned about the situation, as long as someone was giving him enough attention. “Not… exactly. You all need to understand how _important_ it is to me.”

“Ok, we get it,” Isabela nodded. “You wouldn’t get us all here if it wasn’t. So tell us, we’re listening.”

It seemed like Anders had a whole speech prepared, but words didn’t want to flow exactly as he planned. “You know they keep Tranquil mages in one place, locked up like cattle. You’ve been to Gallows.”

Hearing Anders’ words, seeing cold determination in his eyes, Fenris instantly knew what the mage wanted to do. And he wished he could stop him before he explained his plan, but he listened anyway, knowing no matter what, he would not be able to stop Anders.

“Karl’s locked in there…”

“Who’s Karl?” interrupted Merrill, her big eyes filled with interest.

Under their curious glances, Anders blushed slightly. “He’s… important to me.”

Thankfully Isabela didn’t comment on the obvious; her eyes were shining like she was planning on investigating the matter later.

“He was made Tranquil, and he’s been living in that dreadful place ever since. I’ve been seeing him every month, but I can’t take him anywhere outside the Gallows.”

“We could try reason with Meredith to write you a permit, so you could take Karl to Kirkwall at least for few hours,” Garrett suggested. “But I doubt there’s a person who managed to make Meredith do something. Though she might listen to the Champions? We’re charming.”

“You can’t reason with that woman,” Anders replied in a bitter voice. “She doesn’t listen to anyone after the Viscount died. Compromise is not an option here.”

“What exactly _is_ the option, then?” asked Marian with caution, as she suspected what was coming.

Anders took a deep breath. Fenris cringed even before the man opened his lips; he knew what he was about to hear, but listening to Anders actually voicing his mad plan was difficult, to put it mildly.

“I can’t stand that he’ll be living in that place forever. I’ve had enough. I’ve _seen_ enough,” he paused for a second; anger in his eyes mixed with cold determination and a silent plea. “I need to– you need to help me kidnap Karl and take him away from this city.”

Fenris closed his eyes. He didn’t have to look at the others to know their reaction. After so many years together, he learned to predict certain things. He heard Merrill gasp loudly and whisper something in Elvish; Isabela cursed. Varric was conflicted between genuine concern for his friend, and getting an interesting story material. Marian and Garrett were silent.

And Aveline… She must have suspected what was about to happen because when Fenris opened his eyes and glanced at her, she looked like she was about to explode from the anger burning inside her. They all respected her reluctance to take part in certain… _activities_ that weren’t technically legal, but that were part of their lives. Following Marian and Garrett meant you had to do what was necessary, and sometimes it meant ‘illegal’ as well.

“You can’t be serious!” she growled, shooting daggers at the mage.

Anders’ face blushed red instantly. “I am. I will not stand idly as– “

“Listen to me, you blighted apostate,” Aveline seethed. Anders closed his mouth shut knowing well one should not anger this woman if one valued their life. “Have you _ever_ stopped and actually spent one minute thinking before doing something?! First you got transferred to Kirkwall because your original Circle couldn't contain you, and the First Enchanter liked you enough to spare your stupid ass instead of sentencing you to dead.”

“Irving hated me,” he mumbled.

Aveline continued, completely ignoring him. “You were ok for a while, but then you got involved with mage underground. To this day Knight–Commander wants your head, and even Orsino can't help you. But somehow you manage to stay alive no matter what, which is a great achievement if you ask me, because every other crazy apostate would surely end up dead or Tranquil!”

Hearing this word Anders shuddered, ever so slightly, but Fenris noticed not only this, but the way his expression changed.

“You crossed many lines in your life, Anders, but this?!” Aveline took a deep breath, her face blushing red with anger making freckles more visible. “You expect us to help you _kidnap_ a man?!”

“He deserves to be free, just this one last time!” the mage replied, his eyes significantly darker with all that accumulated anger. “Tranquil mages are kept like animals, like cattle, it's inhuman. Meredith has full control over them, they are like her slaves!”

Fenris' ears twitched. To some degree he had to agree with this comparison, albeit reluctantly. Anders knew nothing of real slavery. Just like Fenris knew nothing of mages in the Circle.

“I know it must be hard for you from _your_ perspective, but they're getting the best care possible,” Aveline patiently explained. “They wouldn't survive on their own. Meredith's methods aren't the best, but they work. Tranquil aren't slaves, they are _safe_.”

“Safe? Templars rule over them with an iron fist, stripping them of basic human rights. They're treated like objects!”

“Listen, Blondie, I'm not saying you're wrong, but Aveline's not lying either,” Varric said. “Your views are a little bit on the extreme side. Sure, it's not the best arrangement, but they can live their lives peacefully.”

“Tranquility is worse than death,” Anders spat. “They are fed and have a place to sleep, but no health care, nothing. The general consensus is that they do not deserve anything. You know what happens when a Tranquil mage dies? Their family gets a note from the Knight–Captain. And the body is thrown into a mass grave. No burial, nothing. Just another dead body on a pile of corpses.”

Aveline frowned. “This can’t be true!”

_You’re overreacting as always_ , said her eyes.

“Public opinion isn’t informed, obviously, but it’s all true,” Anders insisted. “Mages won’t tell anything because they’re _afraid_. If templars could, they’d make every single mage Tranquil!”

“That’s not…” Aveline began; thankfully Merrill interrupted her before the situation could evolve into an argument.

“You visit this man, Karl, every month, so he’s been living there for quite some time. Why do you want to do this now?”

Anders bit his lower lip, battling with his thoughts.

_Because he has already told one person about his secret_ , Fenris mused. _Once you say it out loud, you realise it’s been eating you alive, and you want to do something about it_.

“Good question, Kitten,” Isabela said with a nod. “Why now, Blondie, after all this time?”

“Is it connected to the mage underground?” Aveline pressed. “If you’re _still_ involved with them after all they’ve done..!”

“It’s not about the mage underground!” Anders barked.

“Then what? Is it another of your whims? You have this vague idea of a perfect world, but you need to realise our _real_ world isn’t going to change because you tell people Meredith is the Archdemon. They are other possible methods with dealing with certain problems– “

“Karl's dying and there's nothing I can do to help him if he’s locked up in there.”

And then there was silence. Aveline looked away, perhaps embarrassed by her harsh words. Merrill put hands to her face, her big eyes staring at Anders with compassion. Isabela cursed under her breath. Marian and Garrett exchanged a look; it was clear they had already decided to assist Anders in this insanity.

Fenris listened to them all, and observed. It was madness, like Aveline said. Yet Fenris couldn't quite forget the image of Anders walking by the older man's side, smiling. The mage was usually tired or angry, or both, but with Karl by his side his whole person changed completely, perhaps showing who he used to be before all his problems swallowed him whole.

“I shall assist you.”

Words left his mouth, it was too late now. Every person in the room looked at Fenris with various levels of surprise and shock. Marian and Garrett, however, smiled at him. Anders stared, mouth half open.

“Fenris– “

“I do not wish to discuss it any further,” he interrupted. “You said what you had to say, and you need help to do something that seems impossible. Or impossibly stupid. Either way, you have my word. I will help you. If you need my help, that is.”

Fenris looked away; Anders' gaze was unbearable. He saw hope in the mage's eyes. He made no promises, but somehow the man already started believing his mad plan had a chance of succeeding.

“Of course we'll help you, buddy,” Garrett's voice broke the silence.

“You’re one crazy mage, but you’re _our_ crazy mage,” Marian added and winked.

“Andraste’s tits, let’s do this!” said Isabela. “Life was getting boring anyway, nothing’s better than an old–fashioned kidnaping! Am I right, Kitten?”

“Of course!” Merrill squeezed the pirate’s hand. “We’ll do whatever it takes to help you, Anders. We should think about a codename for this plan!”

And just like that, the awful tension was gone, as if someone hit a button to change the mood.

After Aveline hesitantly agreed (“We are not telling my husband!”), Varric asked for details. Anders had to take a moment to calm down, clearly embarrassed by the positive response he received.

“So how you want to do this, Blondie? I imagine we can’t just waltz in there and grab this guy and run?”

Anders wanted to reply, but a melody coming from Garrett’s pocket distracted him completely.

_Dog goes woof, cat goes meow~_

“Maker's balls, Garrett! Would you change your ringtone already?!” Marian huffed.

“Shut up, I know you like this song as much as I do. Sorry I’ll be right back.” With a mobile phone in one hand, he stood up to walk to the other room. As he pressed a button, his voice magically transformed into sounding highly professional with a certain dose of charming that made ladies swoon. “Garrett Hawke speaking.”

“It's settled then,” Aveline said, worry still visible on her face. “For the record, I think it's a crazy idea. But you deserve to have that one last moment. I watched Wesley die, and I wouldn't bear it if I couldn't be by his side to say my goodbye.”

Anders nodded, avoiding eye contact, his face blushed light pink. “Thank you.”

As Fenris listened to the mage talking about the details, he grew more certain this plan was pure madness, borderline stupid _and_ suicidal, since the vital part was all about kidnapping a Tranquil from templar–filled Gallows. Although reluctant at first, he found himself genuinely invested. He wanted to help Anders.

He shook his head, hardly believing in what was happening to him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a longer while because I was busy and got distracted by other things *couch*Sampernia*cough*, but I'll most likely post another chapter next week.  
> Comments are always appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

“You're here to request a visit.”

Cullen eyed one of the older Hawke twins suspiciously. Marian was dressed in a lovely summer dress that accented her blue eyes and exposed just enough of her chest and legs. And she smelled so nice, like a flowery meadow far away from this blighted city...

“Yes,” she nodded with a bright smile that showed she was the most innocent person in the Free Marches.

“And you want to see a Tranquil named Karl Thekla,” Cullen continued, uneasiness creeping up his spine. He could never quite understand what was with Marian Hawke that made her so... attractive.

“Exactly.” Her smile widened. Cullen cleared his throat, trying to force a blush to disappear from his face with his willpower. It didn't do much.

“Could you tell me what is your relationship with this man?”

“To see a Tranquil mage one has to fill out a form, no details needed,” Marian stated, her innocent smile not changing for even a split second, glued to her face. “I requested to see Karl Thekla for my personal reasons that I do not have to disclose.”

“Right...” Cullen eyed the document in his hand for the third time. There was nothing suspicious with it, but he couldn't fight a feeling in his gut that there was something going on here.

On the other hand, Hawke had the prettiest smile. She was an apostate mage, yet a valuable citizen of Kirkwall, respected by both Orsino _and_ Meredith, and Andraste knew those two could never agree on anything. Yet somehow Marian (and her brother Garrett, but he wasn't relevant in this exact moment) managed to win their respect. Cullen was conflicted.

“Fine,” he said after few moments of battling with his thoughts. “Please wait here, I'll have someone fetch Mr Thekla. Just to remind you, you are not allowed to take the Tranquil outside the Gallows. You may walk with him only within this area. Tranquil are not to be taken out to the city.”

“Of course!” she hastily replied. “Thank you, Knight– Captain. You are most kind,” she purred.

Cullen nearly ran away as fast as he could. Marian laughed.

 

*

 

“This is madness,” Aveline repeated.

“And it's working,” Varric replied, chuckling to himself.

Seeing what they were doing, he thought that Isabela and Merrill should think about a career in acting. They were to distract the templars, while Aveline and Varric observed the situation from a distance and intervened in case something went wrong, but the girls didn't need their help at all.

The two women were standing right in the middle of the main square. Even from a distance Merrill looked nervous, fidgeting like crazy. They stood there awkwardly for a minute, and then the Dalish elf suddenly fell down like a sack of potatoes. Isabela started wailing in a high pitched voice, hysterically claiming her companion died on the spot. Templars rushed towards the pirate, not all of them, some cautious but their curiosity peaked. Two women were soon surrounded by a crowd.

“Oh, Messere templar, please help me!” Isabela cried, throwing herself into the man's arms and pressing her ample bosom to his chest. He mumbled something incoherently, way too distracted to think clearly.

Thanks to Carver, they knew exactly how many templars were on duty. Older siblings persuaded (for the lack of a better word) Junior to tell them all the information they needed, as well as warn him to stay inside no matter what. It appeared Carver listened to his brother and sister, as he was nowhere to be seen.

Varric focused his attention on the spectacle. Isabela was still crying and distracting everyone present with her cleavage. One templar held Merrill who appeared to be truly dead –  she should get an award for showing an exceptional talent of playing a corpse.

“We got trouble,” Aveline said.

“Have some faith in Riviani. Oh, this is going to be good...”

Rushing down the stairs, Cullen was shouting questions about the commotion involving so many of his soldiers. Some of the templars mumbled some explanation, but it was clear not one of them really understood what was going on.

“Let me through!” The man closest to Isabela reluctantly moved aside. As soon as Cullen was by her side, Isabela pushed others away, throwing herself at the Knight– Captain instead.

“Messere Cullen! My dear friend is dead, struck by a sickness that had been haunting her frail body for years!” she wailed.

“ _Dead_? But–  “ he instantly grew uncomfortable by the complete lack of personal space between them, and her breasts pressed to his armour. “Lady, could you please–  Could you _please_ move away a bit?”

“My dear friend is dead!!!” she cried, arms around Cullen's neck, and he could swear she massaged the back of his head, gently pulling on his hair. His whole body trembled, panic rising in his heart.

“Um... She's alive?” questioned one of the templars as Merrill sat up and opened her eyes. The crowd gasped in unison.

“It is a _miracle_!” Isabela cried out, still refusing to let Cullen go. “Praise Andraste! Praise the Maker! This little girl has been saved by a divine force!”

“Lady, could you–  could you _please_ –  “ Cullen tried once again fight the pirate's iron grip. She was surprisingly strong.

“Now the Chantry must be informed! My dear friend will take vows to show her appreciation for being given the second chance!”

“Oh?” Merrill blinked. “Y–  yes! I shall take vows and serve the... _uh_ , the Maker? Yes, I shall serve the Maker. In the Chantry. Oh, I could ask Sebastian to teach me psalms!”

Aveline watched the whole situation with mixed feelings, partially ashamed of what Isabela was doing, partially because she could not believe how easily the pirate could fool all those men. Varric was sure his next book is going to be about a certain lady pirate and her elven companion.

 

*

 

While templars were busy ogling at Isabela's little performance, Marian met with Karl, greeting him with a smile. She expected someone, well, _younger_ ; or maybe it was the beard that made him look older than he really was. The mage seemed mildly surprised when she explained him they’re going to see Anders, but didn’t ask any questions, only looking at her with his gentle but blank eyes. Marian felt a shiver running down her spine as she couldn’t help wondering if something like this could also happen to her one day.

Away from any curious eyes, they met with Anders and Garrett. Observing Anders’ face change the second he saw the other mage, Marian had to bite her lip to stop herself from grinning like a madwoman. It was comforting to see Anders so genuinely happy for a change. She would like to ask Anders about Karl one day. Perhaps she will, if they are lucky today.

His expression quickly changed, however, as he had to face the reality of what they were doing, and his eyes returned to Garrett.

“You look nothing alike...” Anders said in a worried tone, looking at Hawke who changed into disturbingly similar robes to the ones Tranquil mages got from the Templar Order.

“No one will notice,” Garrett assured him. He covered his head with a shawl, also wrapping his face to hide his spectacular beard. “If anyone sees us, they will think Marian's with a Tranquil mage. We're gonna walk for half an hour, they get my clothes back from Varric, and leave like we were never here. No one's gonna bother the Champions of Kirkwall anyway.”

“I'm not sure if that's a good idea anymore...” the healer sighed, and glanced at Karl who was standing behind him. He looked utterly lost, like a toy misplaced by a naughty kid.

“I'll be ok,” Marian replied. She squeezed Anders' hand gently, hoping this small gesture would reassure him enough so they could continue with this mad plan. “We'll call you if anything happens. Go. Fenris is waiting for you on the other side.”

“Right...” Anders chewed on his lip. “I haven’t told you this yet, but–  Thank you. All of you. I'd never– “

“Anders,” Garrett interrupted. He gave the mage a gently push. “Go. He's waiting for you.”

Varric knew a guy who operated the ferry going from the Gallows to Lowtown; one's life was certainly easier if you were among Varric’s friends. Anders’ heart stopped for few seconds then they were going through the main gate. But not a single person stopped them; the guards on duty were too interested in what was currently happening on the main square to properly check people leaving the area. Anders was never a religious person, although he thanked Andraste in his thoughts once they were on the ferry. They sat on the very back, hidden from other people.

Karl didn't say anything. He merely once questioned what Anders was doing here, and why they were going outside Gallows, citing the rules word by word, reminding that Tranquil weren't allowed to leave. Blinking back tears, Anders assured him that everything was going to be all right. If he repeated it many times, he would believe it himself, maybe.

 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: reading _Paper and Steel_ (a short story by Jo Berry that I will not shut up about..!!!) made me realise Anders and Samson could probably shake hands when it comes to the topic of Tranquil mages and the Chantry.

Also, sorry that this chapter got way longer than I expected :/

*

 

Fenris doubted the plan would work. There were too many uncertainties. Surely, Marian and Garrett would do their part with no problems, but could they rely on the pirate and the Dalish elf's silly act? Maker knew Isabela could pull off the biggest lie, but would that work this time?

And then he noticed the ferry coming closer. Fenris patiently waited. Something inside him ached.

He briefly wondered what would happen if they failed. He wanted to believe everything was fine, but all this negativity he accumulated over the years wasn’t making it easy. Marian and Garrett would have to face serious consequences; they were the Champions of Kirkwall but it didn’t mean they were above the law.

Ander’s endless tirades about the injustice happening to the Circle mages must have made them uneasy, considering their younger sister was locked up in there. But they never told Bethany about this mad plan; if something went wrong, Templars couldn’t blame her for helping her siblings because she wasn’t involved in the first place.

Fenris waited, trying to not look suspicious as he scanned his surroundings, half expecting to see Templars running towards him to accuse him of helping mages. _Mages_ , of all people. Fenris still couldn’t believe himself.

People started getting off the ferry, and he observed the small crowd carefully. When he noticed Anders accompanied by a man, he let out a sigh of relief. At least one part of this mad plan worked, but they had to keep going.

Anders had his arm around  Karl, holding him close. The older man had a blank, expressionless face, the sunburst strikingly visible on his pale skin. Fenris had seen Tranquil many times before, however, he always regarded them as almost invisible. Mages are vain, proud and obnoxious, whereas the ones with the Cahntry symbol burned on their foreheads were like toys that could be moved wherever others pleased ( _Like slaves_ , something inside Fenris hissed, and his hands curled into fists.).

Karl looked at him with mild interest but said nothing, most likely because Andes instructed him to keep quiet to avoid drawing attention to them.

Fenris wanted to ask Anders if everything was… okay? Fine? How could _anything_ be fine right now? The man seemed so tired and _old_ , the elf could hardly recognise him.

“Let’s go,” Fenris said instead.

Anders nodded. Fenris glanced at Karl, for a brief their eyes met but the elf had to look away. It was like they wanted to rescue a man who was already dead.

 

*

 

Lowtown wasn’t the prettiest part of Kirkwall, but it offered something that the clean streets of Hightown couldn’t – it was easy to disappear in this place. Then there was Darktown, but only those who lost all hope went there. Darktown swallowed people whole. If you still had some hope left, you went to Lowtown. Fenris thought they were rather naïve that they chose to go here, but then again, Varric knew someone who could get them a place where they could wait and make sure Templars didn’t notice one of their Tranquil mages was missing. And that someone was usually involved when runaway mages were concerned, helping them flee this blighted city. Today this individual was supposed to help them as well, however, seeing the man in person made Fenris doubt he could be trusted. Well, they didn’t _have to_ trust him, though it would be nice knowing he wasn’t going to call his colleagues the second they turn around. Because Samson, the man was called, he was a templar himself. An ex–templar, to be precise, but Fenris was sure you can’t unlearn certain things when you choose a side.

Templars were not supposed to be _kind_ to mages. Meredith didn’t tolerate weakness, besides pretending that mages weren’t people was convenient. Rumour had it that after Samson was expelled, the mage he helped was made Tranquil to _set an example_. Fenris had heard about it, of course, all Kirkwall was buzzing with gossip because seeing someone getting thrown out of the Templar Order wasn’t something you see every day. Meeting Samson now, Fenris wondered if what people said was actually true, because the man theat stood in front of him was as far from the ideal of a templar as possible. He could ask him, but Fenris wasn’t here to have a chat, besides he seriously doubted the man would explain his life story to a complete stranger.

They met him in an alley; he looked like every other person who lived in Lowtown, not someone you would like to meet after dark.

“Glad you could make it,” he said with a crooked smile, the mocking tone of his voice making Fenris wonder why the man was helping them in the first place. Perhaps it was all a matter of giving him enough coin, so he could at least pretend he cared.

Fenris’ gaze moved to Anders who was unnaturally silent the whole time, distress so painfully visible on his face. It was always so easy to read the healer’s emotions, he was like an open book – one of the reasons he was always loosing when they played the Wicked Grace together. This time, however, the elf wished Anders was better at hiding what he felt; it would make the whole situation so much easier, as egoistical the thought was.

He didn’t want to pity Anders. He didn’t want to pity any mage, not after what was done to him. But seeing this… injustice, that was happening right in front of his eyes, made Fenris consider rethinking some of his views. He wasn’t suddenly becoming a crazy mage supporter, of course not, but he also wasn’t blind. He started to despise the city they lived in even more.

They followed Samson inside one of the buildings, and then upstairs. They stopped on the second floor, and Samson put a key in Anders’ hand.

“Last door on the right,” he said, waving his hand in that direction. “You can stay for the night but you have to get out before morning. There’s a ship leaving Kirkwall tomorrow at five. They won’t question you when you get on board. Varric knows the details.”

“Thank you,” Anders said, his voice tense.

Samson shrugged. “Don’t thank me yet. You need to get out of the city as soon as possible. Templars will come looking for you. They always do.”

Anders winced and nodded. He opened the door, gently pushed Karl inside. Fenris followed; his and Samson’s eyes met, and he saw the answer to his unspoken question. The man thought they wouldn’t make it, but he helped them anyway for reasons Fenris couldn’t possibly understand. Maybe the feeling of guilt wouldn’t let him turn down the offer, even if it meant helping mages he once swore to “protect” with a sword that was later taken away from him.

“Tell the dwarf I’m waiting for the rest of the money till the end of this week or I’ll pay him a visit myself,” Samson barked before walking away.

After he made sure there was no one around, no curious eyes spying on them, Fenris closed the door. He looked around the small room, noticing a rickety bed, an old round rug on the floor (it was probably green long time ago), a chair by a table. There was a window, so dirty Fenris could barely see through it. All in all, the place wasn’t _that_ bad, considering what Lowtown usually had to offer. He walked to the window, pretended to look outside so the two men would have at least some privacy.  

“Sit down, Karl, you need to rest,” Anders said in that gentle voice Fenris never heard him using, as if it was reserved for this one person only (perhaps it was). Karl did as he was told without even a hint of hesitation, resembling an obedient child, or a puppet –  never moving if the puppet master didn't make him.

Anders sat down by his side. “Maybe you should try to sleep? We need to get up early,” he said, trying to sound calm, but Fenris could hear just how his voice quivered, ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry, but…” Karl hesitated. “I know you told me everything is taken care of, and I shouldn’t worry but… It wouldn’t be wise if I didn’t return to the Gallows for the night. Templars have strict rules about leaving the place.”

“I know they do,” was Anders’ reply, and this time his voice shook with anger.

Fenris took a deep breath. His hands itched; he wanted to do _something_ but all he could do was just sit here and wait. He wished he could simply grab his sword and fight until his muscles ached. It was easy, knowing you just had to win a battle, and that was it. The fact that he had to wait, that there was _nothing_ he could do, made him feel entirely powerless.

Then he heard Karl’s couching, Anders inhaled sharply, and Fenris turned to look what was wrong, because the tension that appeared all of the sudden was almost palpable. When he noticed what was the problem, he cursed in his thoughts sensing blood in the air, not the regular blood that flowed from his enemies when he cut them, but that foul, poisonous substance corrupted by disease.

 “I'm sorry. I am unwell,” the older man apologized. He couched again, covering his mouth with his hands. His whole body shook.

Anders stared at the blood on Karl's hands, eyes wide with shock. “When was the first time you saw blood?”

“Two months ago, I believe,” the man replied in a polite voice.

“There was no blood when we met last month!”

“I'm sorry, Messere. There are days when I feel better.”

Anders took a deep breath. His eyes changed, now empty and hollow. “I told you to not call me that...” he whispered.

“I'm sorry... Anders. If you allow me, I should return to the Gallows. I have tasks– “

“No! You’re not going back there!” Anders roared with fury.

Fenris froze, expecting to see fire or lightning, anger manifested as all those powerful spells Anders knew well, and he was ready to strike if needed… but nothing happened. The mage took a deep breath, his gaze returning to Karl who didn’t move as if he was ready to accept his punishment for angering another person.

“I’m sorry,” Anders said softly, ashamed of his outburst. He stood up, took a step away from the Tranquil mage, maybe afraid he could do something he would later regret. “Try to… Try to get some rest.”

“I will,” Karl nodded. “Anders,” he added after a moment of hesitation.

The mage walked to the window, and seeing him utterly defeated, Fenris considered saying something. He could finds no words, unfortunately; he wished Marian or Garrett were here, they always knew what to say. Or Isabela, even if it meant hearing her making lewd comments, though the elf was sure that in a situation like this, she would behave differently. Every other person could offer Anders some support, while he just stood there, completely  useless, battling with his thoughts.

But then Anders broke the silence and started talking in a quiet, calm tone, so different than his usual manner of speaking, when he was challenging everyone to see the unjust treatment of mages, complaining loudly about the Hawke twins dragging him on yet another job, or whining that he would like to get a cat or how much he missed Pounce. It was as if Anders transformed into a different person, and Fenris wasn’t sure how exactly he should deal with the man right now, how he should react to someone who was so close to giving up.

“Every month I have to introduce myself again because he... He forgets. He could recite all those damn rules templars wrote, but he can't remember my name. I'm just another face in the crowd, less important than the list of chores he has to do.”

_You don’t have to tell me this_ , Fenris wanted to say. But he listened, because it seemed all Anders needed at this exact moment was to have someone who would listen.

“I can only bring myself to hold his hand, or hug him. Everything else seems like...” his lips twisted with disgust. “Should I be ashamed that I want to kiss him like I used to? When he wasn't... When he was still himself. Not... this stranger. Should I be ashamed that I want to be with the person I love? But then I look at him, I see that blighted sun on his forehead, his blank eyes, I hear his polite voice... Always _so polite_! And I realise that whatever I want doesn't matter, because this is not the man I love. Karl, the real Karl, is gone. What's left is an empty shell.”

His hands curled into fists, Fenris could taste his anger again. Anders was speaking more to himself, and the elf was glad since he had no words to offer, nothing to say that would possibly help in this situation. He could feel Anders' bitter fury threatening to break lose. His plan backfired horribly; instead of consolation, he found only more anger.

And Karl was sick, dying among other Tranquil with blank faces, left to deal with their sickness on their own. It was like Anders had said; the general consensus was that they deserved nothing. They could live but–  Was that even living?

Fenris’ gaze travelled back to the mage. _Would you kill a man you love if you had to?_

Suddenly he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, it was Hawke. _Shit_.

“Fenris? Everything's ok?” Garrett asked in a hushed voice. He had to be in a public place, Fenris could hear noises. “We got out with no problems.”

“Yes, everything's ok,” he stated flatly. The situation was more complicated than “ok yes/no”, it was no use talking about it on the phone. “We're at the place Varric found.”

“All right, I'll be there with Marian in like ten minutes.” There was a pause. Fenris heard someone yelling about the pleasures of the Blooming Rose in the background, and Marian telling them to sod off. “Is Anders ok?”

“He's–  fine.” Fenris cursed his moment of hesitation.

“Ok, see you soon then!”

The elf's eyes returned to Anders who was standing unmoving, looking at Karl with so much longing and sadness Fenris wished they had never agreed on his plan. As much as Fenris enjoyed teasing Anders or argue with him about the smallest things, it was inhuman to sentence the mage to this kind of suffering. Fenris could pretend he didn't understand it; after all, he never had anyone to love, or if he did, the memories of that person were long erased from his mind the day when he got his markings. It wasn't about Anders anymore, it was about the basic human need of having someone to share their life with. And the right to stay with them no matter what.

Fenris didn't need anyone like that, or so he was telling himself, from time to time glancing at Marian or Garrett. He loved them, in a way, but it was a feeling far from lust or need. He loved the way they _accepted_ him, nothing more. He wasn't sure he wanted more, thinking they both deserved someone better than an ex– slave Tevinter elf with poisonous tattoos carved into his body.

Anders, however... The mage had already found that person but they were forcibly separated. Now Anders was desperately clinging to whatever was left of Karl Thekla, and it was slowly killing him.

“They’ll be here soon,” Fenris said, putting his phone back into his pocket.

Anders nodded lightly, not listening, his mind focused on another matter. “I need to check something.”

He was by the bed again, kneeling in front of the Tranquil mage. “Karl, may I please cast a spell on you? To check your health, make sure you’re not– “he sighed, and continued. “It’s a simple spell, feels like a warm balm on your skin. I promise it won’t take long, only a minute or two.

“Of course, do as you wish,” Karl politely replied; Anders tried very hard not to wince.

Magic, just like the people who were using it, was cruel, vicious and caused nothing but pain, Fenris knew. Anders was capable of summoning flames, turning enemies into ice or shooting lighting from his hands. He was dangerous; just like Marian, another apostate, or Merrill, a Dalish blood witch. All mages were dangerous. Anders’ other magic, however, was able to heal, and Fenris many times felt its warmth during battles, mending his broken bones, stitching tissues back together, fixing everything no matter how hard he got hurt. At first he didn’t want to allow it, feeling it was a violation similar to the atrocities of blood magic. Then Marian convinced him; after all, it was easier to heal him in five seconds with a spell, than bandage his broken arm and swallow a bunch of painkillers every day for the next month. Besides, he couldn’t go to a regular hospital, he wasn’t even an official citizen of this city, so in the end Anders’ clinic was the only place where Fenris could get some help. He could, of course, stay in his rotting mansion forever, drink until all pain disappeared and he forgot about his wounds. Anders using healing spell on him was simply convenient. Fenris never thanked him, sometimes he felt like he should, but then he remembered Anders never wanted anything in return. Blighted altruist, that mage.

Now he observed as Anders finished the spell to determine whatever he wanted to know about Karl’s health, and returned to the spot by the window, his expression grim. When two older Hawke siblings arrived, Fenris nearly fell on his knees to thank them, because he could barely stand the atmosphere in the room; his helplessness was suffocating him.

Garrett gave him a significant look. _He’s as far from FINE as humanly possible_ , his eyes told Fenris after having one look at Anders.

Marian’s gaze travelled from Karl who was sitting on the bed, hands neatly folded on his lap, unmoving because no one ordered him to, then to Anders, and Fenris could see she nearly grimaced when she saw the expression on the man’s face.

“We actually met that guy, Samson, before” said Garrett, desperately trying to have a conversation instead of sulking as everyone else present. “He once helped Marian and me when we were looking for that boy, Feynriel. Seems like helping fugitive mages is what he does.”

“I wouldn’t trust him. He’s an ex–templar,” Fenris pointed out. If Garrett wanted to talk about nothing so they wouldn’t focus on negatives, he felt obliged to help him out.

“Former templar is helping mages. Makes you wonder, huh?”

“He’ll keep his word,” Marian stated, her voice cold, but when she turned to Anders, her whole face instantly softened. “Tell me what happened. Is Karl ok?”

Anders avoided her all–knowing eyes. “He’s… He wants to go back because he doesn’t understand...” he stopped, let out a long sigh. “He’s so lost. I begin to wonder that perhaps it wasn’t the best idea. But I can’t let him work himself to death in that place. I can’t…”

“You can do as Samson said and get on that ship. You can leave this city forever. There’s still hope,” she patiently explained.

Ander shook his head. “I’ve checked and… Without any kind of treatment, his state got significantly worse in a short period of time. Even if we do get on that ship, he won’t make it.”

“We could take you to our mansion,” Garrett suggested. “You two could live with us until, um…”

“Templars will come looking, like they always do,” the mage said, echoing Samson’s words in a more ominous voice. “I couldn’t possibly put you at risk.”

“I should get back,” Karl said suddenly; they all looked at him, startled. “I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“You’re not causing any trouble, it’s all good,” Marian gave him a smile.

“Anders?” her brother asked in a hushed tone. “What do you want to do now?”

Fenris listened and wanted to scream, partially because he knew this plan wouldn’t work. It was insane to think they could take a Tranquil mage right from the Gallows and don’t face any consequences. That they could kidnap a dying man and expect everything to end happily.

He also wanted to scream because something inside him couldn’t stand how powerless he was. It was making him sick.

“We've been out for only like an hour,” Marian said to Anders. “Varric said templars are still busy drooling over Isabela. No one suspects a thing. If we're quick about it, they won't notice one of their Tranquil mages is missing. We'll get Karl back to the Gallows in no time. If you're sure about it.”

“What if Templars find us here and drag him back to that place? What if they arrest all of us,” Anders shook his head. “I was a fool to think…”

“Stop right there, there’s no time for this now,” Marian hissed. “We will fix this. Just tell us a word.”

“It this can be fixed, then… First, I need to get something from my clinic.”

“We don’t have much time…”

“I _need_ to get something from my clinic,” Anders repeated. His hands were shaking.

“I'll go with you,” Garrett offered. His sister thanked him with a smile.

“What do you want to do, Anders?” she pressed, cautious.

When he replied, Fenris saw cold determination in his tired eyes. “I can’t– I _won’t_ let him die from exhaustion one day. His health is rapidly deteriorating. If I could heal him sooner… There’s nothing I can do now, except… giving him the right to die.”

Marian and Garrett exchanged another look; sometimes Fenris was sure they were able to communicate without words.

“I have this… It’s a pill, once you swallow it, the poison shuts down your nervous system. It’s a painless death, the one and only I can offer him. No one can make this decision but Karl. I won’t force him, I will ask him to do it because I think he deserves to finally have peace.”

_It’s against the Maker_ , Fenris wanted to say but didn’t. Religion didn’t matter now.

“Let’s go, then,” Garrett said, his voice tense. “We don’t have much time.”

As they waited, Marian sat on the bed by Karl and started a conversation about everything and nothing in particular, asking about how his usual day looked like, who was in charge of the little shops with herbs and various equipment in the Gallows, or how big the library in the Circle was, since she had never been there.  The man’s eyes lit up with something similar to emotions, and he replied in a respectful manner, thoroughly answering all her questions, reciting a long list of tasks he had to do every day without even a hint of complaint. Fenris was grateful Hawke was able to talk to the man, although it had to be hard for her, not only because she was an apostate herself, but most importantly because of Bethany, locked up in the Circle. The possibility of seeing both Hawke sisters made Tranquil made the elf’s blood boil.

_Tranquility is worse than deah!_ , Anders had said. Now Fenris understood what he meant.

When Garrett and Anders were back, it was difficult to tell who looked more tense. Fenris wanted to ask why Anders had a pill like this in the first place. He wanted to hear the mage say what the elf suspected; sometimes there are no other options than death. Suicide is not glorious, but it is an only way of escape when a person gets to a certain point. Fenris was sure Anders was dangerously close to this point.

He did not ask, however. We wouldn’t hit a dog that was already beaten.

While Anders talked to Karl, the rest waited outside, giving them an illusion of privacy. Cursing his elven hearing, Fenris was desperately trying to focus on something, _anything_ , so he wouldn’t hear their voices. After few minutes Anders opened the door again, his face blank.

“Here's the plan,” Marian's voice indicated how serious she was. Her usual playfulness and sassy remarks were gone, replaced by a strong figure people wanted to follow. “Garrett and I are taking Karl back, the ferry leaves in half an hour. I'll text Isabela to make another commotion, and Varric to get us all inside. Best case scenario, Karl goes back unnoticed. Worst case scenario, he's with the Champions of Kirkwall, templars can't do shit against us.”

“We'll think about some bullshit excuse if they question us,” Garrett added.

“This won't work,” Anders mumbled, shaking his head.

“Leave it to us,” Marian said, then glanced at Fenris who wondered where her plan leaves him. “Stay with Anders.”

The elf nodded. If there was someone who could knock Anders down if needed, it was him.

Karl looked at others, seeking someone to give him an order, tell him what to do, how to behave. Like a trapped animal, he wanted a way out. But an animal understood the world it lived in, and could survive in it; Tranquil mages could not.

“You have to promise me.” Anders tensed, his hands on Karl's shoulders shaking. “After we take you back to the Gallows, you'll go to your cell, swallow the pill and go to sleep.”

“Templars may suspect…”

“Please. Karl, _please_ ,” his voice trembled as he blinked back tears.

Confused, the older man slowly nodded. “I promise. I will do as you wish,” he said in an emotionless voice, the gentle expression on his face never changing, eliciting a chocked sob from Anders.

 “Go,” Anders said turning to Marian. “Before I–  Just go, please.”

Fenris saw her smile despite the fact that in her eyes he could see she was _angry_ , more than ever. If Fenris didn’t know Marian Hawke, he would believe the smile wasn’t merely masking her the fury roaring inside her.

“Let’s go,” she said to the older mage in a gentle voice. “Garrett and I are taking you back to the Gallows. Everything is going to be fine. Remember what… what Anders told you.”

“I will,” Karl replied, then turned to Fenris. “Thank you for your kindness. Goodbye,” Karl bowed his head and gave him a polite smile.

Fenris only stared, feeling like a complete fool, because he didn’t know what he could possibly do. Garrett was looking away; even though he appeared like a brute, he was the more emotional one. Marian gave him a reassuring pat on the back before walking to Karl and opening the door for him. Her brother followed, keeping his head low, his back tense. Fenris had seen him like this. Garrett was ready to kill with his bare hands if they faced problems.

“Goodbye, Anders.”

The mage forced himself to smile. “Goodbye, Karl.”

Fenris' eyes were focused on Anders the whole time, and he could not look away, hypnotized by the mosaic of pain, anger and love painted on the man's face, reflected in his honest eyes.

There was a beast locked deep inside him, a reminder of his life as the magister's slave and pet; seeing the way Anders looked at Karl, and how his heart shattered into pieces right in front of the elf's eyes, the beast howled, longing for something that was long lost.

 

*

 

When Fenris met with Garrett one month later, after they talked about their next assignment, the rogue mentioned Bethany finished her initial training and since she was the best of all novice mages, she was allowed to find a job and live outside the Circle for the next half a year.

“Providing she won’t be, you know, setting people on fire or something. But that’s Marian, Bethany’s the calm one in this family. And she has to report to the Circle exactly what she’s doing and where. It’s so stupid, there’s so much paperwork you wouldn’t believe…”

He shook his head and sighed. “The good news is, she’ll be working in the one and only clinic in Darktown. My little sister has a talent for the healing magic, as it turns out. And she doesn’t mind working in the sewers.”

“Can she work there? Wasn’t that clinic illegal in the first place?” Fenris asked, carefully avoiding mentioning a certain name. Garrett, however, didn’t want to dance around the topic.

“Well, yeah, Anders never bothered to actually register that dumpster as a real clinic, and he never had the money, but Aveline found this foundation that helps the poor. She and Marian practically forced him to fill out all the forms, Varric knows someone who works for that organization, so in the end Anders got not only a lot of money, but those people helped him make the place look less like a dumpster, more like an actual clinic, shiny floors, painted walls and everything. And folks are volunteering to work there, so he’s not working 24/7, even though he wants to because he’s a hopeless workaholic.”

“That’s… incredible,” Fenris blurted out, feeling a little bit ashamed he hadn’t find the courage to even ask how Anders was doing earlier. He was sure the mage didn’t want to speak to him, mourning the man he loved. Fenris heard Isabela saying that Anders was informed Karl died, but he never asked about details. He knew he wasn’t the one Anders needed right now. After all, what he could possibly offer him? He couldn’t even tell him he felt sorry because it was obvious Anders didn’t want anyone’s pity.

“Yup! He officially has his own clinic now. That’s fucking great, if you ask me,” Garrett beamed. The elf nodded; yes, it was good something nice was happening to Anders. As weird this thought felt, Fenris was glad.

“Rumour has it Meredith is furious there’s an _apostate_ _mage_ living openly in Darktown, but then it’s an official thing now, so she can’t do shit about it. And apparently Orsino convinced the whole Circle to support our dear friend, and everyone kinda conveniently forgot they expelled the man not so long ago. Plus, Marian and me are supporting him as much as we can, so people know he has the blighted Champions of Kirkwall behind his back.”

Later Fenris cursed himself for this moment of weakness, but before he could think, words left his mouth, “How is he holding up? I mean he owns a clinic and everything, but…”

His and Garrett’s eyes met, and for a second Fenris thought he saw compassion in Hawke’s gaze.

“He’s… far from fine, still. It’s been a month, and I can barely recognize the man,” he admitted honestly. “It was okay, at first, for a week maybe. He was mourning. We would sit with him for hours, and he wasn’t talking, just lying in bed, and I practically had to force him to eat. Then Aveline told him about that foundation, and Marian thought it would be a good idea if he had something to do besides, well, grieving.”

He scratched his beard. Fenris didn’t like where this conversation was going because he could predict the rest. It was always easy to tell what Anders was about to do next, after all.

“Now he’s always working,” Garrett continued, not hiding the worry in his voice. “And when he’s not, he’s out Maker knows where. Varric claims his contacts has seen Anders at various clubs and places like the Rose, but I don’t want to believe it. This doesn’t feel like the Anders we know…”

_The Anders we know is dead_ , Fenris wanted to say. But it wouldn’t change anything other than making Hawke more worried, so he kept silent.

He would like to talk to Anders one day. Fenris wasn’t sure what he wanted to tell him exactly, but he felt like it was the right thing to do.

One day, he would.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N2: I had different ideas on how to end this story. In the end Karl always died – it was unavoidable since I wanted to follow the canon events to at least some degree. I could not, however, bring myself to write a scene with Anders killing him, hence I wrote something different, only mentioning Karl died without having to describe it.  
> Despite the sad tones of this story, I do enjoy this AU, and this fic will have a continuation.  
>  Comments are always appreciated! Thank you for reading.


End file.
